


Even you need a break

by captainhurricane



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Big Boss is a douchebag, Father/Son Incest, I'm a little sorry, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, in which David is the foxhound-bicycle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6581302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David has caught the eye of the boss himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even you need a break

**Author's Note:**

> "let it goooo of the foxhound-era let it goooooo"

"Hey, buddy, did you hear that Big Boss is at HQ?" 

It's the only topic of conversation in the locker room during one particularly blazing hot morning. It's six am, half of the recruits are barely awake but everyone stands a little straighter at knowing that their supreme leader is nearby. Especially David who has admired the man's career and skills since learning of them as a kid. Had even managed to see Big Boss face to face a few times, flustered at the depth of his voice and the sheer power of his presence. Big Boss is inspiring. Big Boss is a big goddamn American hero and David wants to be like him desperately. 

So he trains harder than anyone, to become better. To become a soldier worthy of Big Boss. To just have Big Boss look at him with pride. Maybe even be able to be called a Fox, like the mysterious, hardfaced Frank Jaeger who often trails after the boss: sharpfaced, a force of nature on his own. Yet they are unreachable so David takes his pleasures where he can: in the arms and hands of his fellows, blows them under covers and lets himself be fucked in the showers when the need strikes. 

He's shaping himself into a killer, a bloodhound for Big Boss' army and he wouldn't have it any other way. 

He's over the moon when Big Boss arrives to their practice during that hot day. They are running laps and sparring in the outside field, all sweaty and muddy and there he is: tall and grey-haired, a cigar burning between his lips. Master Miller excuses himself and leaves them to it, never answers a question why he can't be in the same room as their boss: the recruits are too infatuated with the greatest soldier who ever lived anyway. They go on with their practice but their focus is off. 

Big Boss smirks. Blows a puff of smoke towards the sky. He points. 

”Me?” David freezes, in the middle of a headlock with a bunkmate: said bunkmate has a forgettable face but not a forgettable cock. 

”I don't like to be kept waiting,” Big Boss rumbles and leaves. David follows, as expected. He fans himself with his hands, his tank stuck to his skin. At least the bandanna helps keep sweat from his eyes. He can feel it dripping between his shoulderblades.  
”Is there anything in particular you need from me, sir?” David keeps up with the boss' brisk pace, half a step behind. It wouldn't do to think of himself being in the same level as the boss, after all.  
”Yes,” Big Boss murmurs and leads David up the stairs and onwards, then up another flight of stairs and onwards.

His office is sparsely decorated and impersonal but it reeks of cigar smoke and cologne. The large mahogany table is completely empty.  
”I have been hearing a few rumours about you, David,” the boss says and sits down, spreads his legs. David can't help it, he looks between those legs and swallows hard. Keeps his hands behind his back, his gaze on that single bright eye.  
”Ah, I'm certain there are rumours about everyone, sir, I don't see why-”  
”I'd appreciate if you didn't think I am stupid, boy.”  
”I don't think you are, sir, of course not.” David swallows. The boss' eye narrows. He pulls out an ashtray from the shelf behind him and stumps his cigar. Leans back on the chair. He's smirking again, an expression that is both terrifying and arousing. 

”I'm not going to tell you to stop since you kids do need to let out some steam. But I'm interested in you, David.”  
”You are?” David gulps, shifts. Hopeful. He's masturbated to the thought of Big Boss around fiftyseven times by now, not that he's been that careful of a count. The leather chair creaks as the boss shifts again.  
”Yes. You must be quite a skillful little whore to have that many men after you.” The boss pats his thigh. Whistles. Tilts his finger. Calls for David like a dog. And David comes, with one look he's on his knees, eyes wide and hopeful and want thrumming through him like the heavy bass of a song.  
”I am pretty damn skillful. Sir. Yes, sir.” David barely dares to press his sweaty palms on the boss' expensive-looking trousers, licks his dry lips like a man dying of thirst as he starts unbuckling the heavy leather belt. Big Boss hums above him, huge and overpowering like a bear. Close like this, he's even more handsome, pressing every single button inside David without even trying.  
”Give me a demonstration of your skills, David. I wouldn't want to force you, not everyone can take me whole,” the boss says conversationally and cards his thick fingers through David's damp hair. David glances up and dares to grin: confident, young, eager.  
”With pleasure, sir.” 

He unzips, he unbuttons, he unbuckles. Takes out the boss' length, sizes it up against his hands. He doesn't dare to ask for any sort of lube so he spits on his palm and spreads it on the length. It's thick even in its softened state and David's mouth is watering, his throat parched.  
”Oh, fuck,” he says. Big Boss laughs and is altogether unhelpful in getting his dick where it's supposed to go. So David does all the work, groans as he fills his mouth inch by inch, drool on the corners of his lips but he doesn't care, can't care when he's got the boss' dick in his mouth and it's the biggest he's ever taken. He curses inside his head, has to shift on the floor as his own dick makes itself known. He mouths at the heavy balls, spreads his saliva on them but soon goes back to the main course, tries to take too much and gags. Is pulled back by a hand on his hair and whines. 

”We don't want to ruin such a nice mouth, now, take it easy, kid,” Big Boss purrs and rubs his thumb over David's panting lips. David gives it a lick and nods.  
”It's so thick,” he murmurs and gets it back, tries to be slower but every inch is beautiful and swollen, the boss' smell weighing like a ton as it surrounds him, slithers up his nostrils. The boss' large hands are on his head now, stroking and swiftly removing the bandanna. David sucks, his eyes fluttering close. Nothing smells and tastes quite like a good, thick cock and they don't come any thicker and better than Big Boss himself: David moans as he thinks what it would feel like to take him in the ass.  
”Very nice, David. I am quite happy with you,” the boss murmurs and abruptly stands up, keeps a hold of David's head and doesn't let him slip free. David's eyes bug out as the dick is forced deeper, he gags, grabs a hold of the boss' thighs.  
  
”You can take it. Come on now. Make your boss happy.” David groans, tries to relax his jaw, tilt his head so the angle is better. Remembers to keep his teeth at bay. In and out the dick slides, hot drops of pre-cum now mixing with the saliva.  
”That's right, that's exactly right,” Big Boss continues, hooks his thumbs to the corners of David's mouth and doesn't give any other warning before moving his hips. David groans and gags but takes it, takes the forceful thrusts. His ears are buzzing with the fierce running of his own blood, filled with the obscene sounds Big Boss' dick makes as it thrusts in and out of his slack, wet mouth. Big Boss' hands grip his head tightly and force him to take the dick as deep as it goes. Tears prickle at the corners of David's eyes and he's so hard it physically hurts, he's clutching and wrinkling the boss' expensive pants but dutifully accepts the load Big Boss gives him. The hitched breath, one brief growl are enough rewards.  
”Keep your mouth open.” As is the hot spurts of semen in his throat and on his face. ”Come on, stick your tongue out more. Good, what a good slut you are. I think I'll fuck you someday. See how you take me in that pretty ass.” Still Big Boss keeps up that conversational tone. Drags David up by his hair.  
”Look at me.” David looks. Flustered, sore-throated. He doesn't rub it, puts his hands behind his back. Pants.  
”Sir,” he starts. Big Boss' dick hangs flaccid between his legs now, a couple of droplets of semen on his thigh. The man has the audacity to smirk.  
”Take your clothes off.”


End file.
